


Long Sleeves

by October_Moon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assumed Past Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone else is just mentioned at the end, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It's mostly Keith/Lance, Light Angst, M/M, Past Cutting, Scars, lance's jacket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/October_Moon/pseuds/October_Moon
Summary: Lance... never took off his coat."I was just wondering why you never take off your coat."His mouth dropped open and closed a few more times before he finally got some words out. “That’s… none of your business, Mullet.”AU where they've been in space for about a year and Keith realizes he's never seen Lance without his coat. Trigger warning, if you read the tags then you'll already know: this is about cuts. The cuts already happened in the past, they're healed and you only see the scars. It's not graphic but I know some people don't like thinking about cuts at all. Myself included but I wanted to try writing something short and this idea wouldn't leave my mind.





	Long Sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first short piece for a fandom! Also my only completed thing for a fandom so far! Wow!
> 
> I wanted to give shorts a shot just so I'd have something actually finished on here. It feels good, btw! Highly recommend!
> 
> Enjoy I hope!

Lance… never took off his coat.

 

Keith had no clue why he’d realized that so suddenly. He’d been staring at his coat and wondering if it was as warm and comfortable as it looked… not because it was Lance’s, of course, it just looked like a nice coat, okay?! But then it’d hit him. He had never seen Lance without his coat.

 

And maybe you could make a case that it was just because they had no other outfits out here, at least none that fit on them right since every species that wasn’t Altean or Human seemed to be shaped just differently enough to sit oddly on them. But Lance’s outfit wasn’t so complex that he  _ needed  _ the jacket to complete it. The shirt underneath was just a basic shirt, the pants just basic jeans.

 

So why did Lance always have his jacket on?

 

“Hey, Lance.”

 

Lance turned to him, hands in his pockets and one eyebrow raised, a small grin crossing his face and eyes lit up just like they always were when he looked at Keith. And the rest of the team, probably. Of course. The alien girl he’d been talking to shifted her eyes between them before backing away, lime green skin flushing to a nice evergreen. He gave her a quick glance and said something too low for Keith to hear before she darted off and he walked over to where Keith leaned against a wall. “What’s up, dude?”

 

“Sorry about-,” he waved his hand towards the retreating girl, deeply burying the jealousy that threatened to snap at her heels. “Whatever that was. I had a random question. I was just wondering why you never take off your coat.” He gestured to his own coat, the sleeves tied around his waist since the planet's average temperature was 13 Forbles, Altean for what Pidge and Hunk estimated meant around 88 degrees Fahrenheit.

 

Lance, to Keith’s surprise, went red. Well, more red. He was already a little red, flushed from the heat. His mouth dropped open, surprised, before it snapped shut again, dropping into a frown. His eyes lost that light hearted glint.

 

If Keith wasn’t reading him wrong (which he wasn’t, not after spending over a year on a ship with him and only five others, not after looking at him so much, sneaking glances whenever he could, purely for research purposes, obviously) then he looked a little defensive. A decidedly Keith look. It didn’t fit well on Lance’s face. It kind of reminded him of the beginning, back when the two of them had clashed over anything and everything, a similar look taking over his face whenever Keith seemed to be winning the argument.

 

His mouth dropped open and closed a few more times before he finally got some words out. “That’s… none of your business, Mullet.” He didn’t miss Lance’s fingers curling around his coat sleeves, a nervous habit. 

 

Keith flinched, just a little. Not because of the word. No, he’d gotten used to that, had let it become a bit of a nickname once the real animosity had faded away. He flinched because of the venom in it. More venom than he’d heard directed at him by anyone on his team in months.

 

Lance softened just a little at that. “Sorry. Just… ask me later, okay? If you really need to know.  _ Only  _ if you really need to know.” He paused, turning back to the party around them. “I want to trust you, Keith.”

 

Keith watched Lance disappear back into the crowd with a pit in his stomach, sure he was about to learn something but unsure if it was something he’d regret knowing.

 

—

 

It was almost midnight Castle Time when Keith couldn’t take it anymore and made the few steps of a journey from his room to Lance’s. He only hesitated a few seconds before he was knocking.

 

“Keith?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m honestly not surprised you’re asking me this tonight.”

 

“Lance, just- Can I come in?”

 

There was some sort of muffled rustling sound inside, maybe Lance getting out of bed or moving cloth around? And then- “Only if you promise. Promise you won’t go blabbing to everyone else. It’s my secret to keep.”

 

Well. That sounded ominous as fuck. But he was here and Lance was willing to trust him with that ominous sounding truth and  _ of course _ he was willing to keep whatever it was a secret as long as it wasn’t something dangerous. So he took a quick second to think, to make absolutely sure, and then he nodded. “I promise.”

 

The door hissed open.

 

Lance wasn’t wearing his jacket.

 

He stood next to his bed, the jacket on top of the sheets, his hands curled loosely around his forearms. His brows were furrowed.

 

“Lance? You gonna tell me what’s up with you and your jacket?” He asked. His eyes flickered from the bed, to Lance’s face, to Lance’s arms. His shirt sleeves only went to just below his elbows.

 

Lance shifted nervously, gaze trained just to the left of Keith. “I… I thought I could show you but I… Maybe you’ll…” He sounded so scared, so self-conscious, so un-Lance-like, Keith couldn’t help it. His feet moved of their own accord, pulling him in closer to Lance. He stood in front of him. Whatever Lance was trying to show him, it was important. He wasn’t about to just let it go.

 

Lance was trying to trust him. Maybe he could try trusting Lance, too. He wasn’t much for words but maybe he could show him how he felt. How he’d started feeling months ago, feelings that kept growing with every interaction. He just hoped he wasn’t reading things wrong. God, that’d be embarrassing.

 

Slowly, so Lance could back away if he wanted, Keith lifted his hands up to Lance’s elbows, resting them there on his arms. He looked up just slightly thanks to the inch or so Lance had over him. Waited until Lance finally met his eyes.

 

“Lance. Whatever is up, it’s okay. Trust me.” He stared as Lance stared back. Waited again.

 

He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I do.”

 

Lance dislodged Keith’s hands but not to back away. Just to show him. He pulled his own hands away from his arms and held them up and out.

 

Keith’s heartbeat picked up against his will, something that tended to happen around Lance, but this time it was for a more reasonable reason. Was Lance holding his hands out… for Keith… to take?

 

Well, Keith was nothing if not impulsive and while denying his feelings for Lance was one of his favorite pastimes these days he did  _ really  _ want to find out how soft those hands were. He did  _ really  _ want to trust Lance with his feelings. He could do it.

 

He took Lance’s hands.

 

Unfortunately, that was not what Lance was trying to offer. His hands were barely lined up against Keith’s before he was sliding them down until his wrists sat in Keith’s palms. His bare palms since it was bedtime, his gloves left on his dresser.

 

They stood there somewhat awkwardly for a few seconds, Keith holding Lances wrists, Lance staring at Keith like he was waiting for something important.

 

He was about to do something, maybe drop his wrists and just demand answers like old fashioned Keith, when he felt it. He shifted the tiniest bit and felt the bumps there. His blood ran cold.

 

He could see the moment Lance knew that he’d figured it out. His eyes dropped to the floor, frown pulling even further down.

 

Slowly and carefully, Keith turned Lance’s arms, exposing his wrists to the light.

 

The thin white lines crossing his skin broke Keith’s heart. His heartbeat was fast before but now… now his heartbeat was in his ears, the panic at the thought of losing Lance before meeting him jolting it into a race.

 

It took Lance subtly trying to pull away for him to realize he was just staring. “Um, Keith, maybe this was a mistake, you don’t have to look at it, please,  _ please _ don’t tell the others, I-,”

 

He broke off.

 

He broke off because Keith’s lips just barely grazed the scars in a gentle kiss.

 

Of course Lance was scared. Keith wondered if maybe he’d shown these to someone once before, if they had reacted with disgust or horror. It would be a reasonable reaction. Not helpful, certainly, but he could at least understand them not liking the scars.

 

Keith didn’t like them either. They meant Lance had gone through a rough time. But he didn’t hate them because they also meant he’d survived the rough time. A scar meant healing, meant continued life, and damn was Keith glad they were there if it meant Lance was alive right now.

 

If Lance hadn’t lived through the rough time, if the cuts he’d put there had never scarred over, would anyone have ever found the Blue Lion? Would the other Paladins have found the Castle of Lions, the Princess and Coran? Would anyone? Keith might’ve ended up wandering a desert for years with no friends, no family. No Lance.

 

It wasn’t something he wanted to imagine.

 

So he kissed the scars. He kissed each one on each wrist, his grip and his lips gentle in case it made Lance uncomfortable, in case Lance wanted to pull back for any reason at all.

 

By the time he was done Lance was crying. The tears rolled down his face silently, his shoulders shaking the smallest bit.

 

Hell, Keith was already on a roll. He decided to take his chances. He reached up with his right hand, still holding Lance’s wrist in his left, and cupped Lance’s cheek. He let his thumb stroke Lance’s cheek and wow, Lance was leaning into his touch, didn’t that feel nice, his chest felt so warm and full! And then he pulled him that little inch down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

 

“Lance, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m glad you’re still here.”

 

His heart stuttered when Lance kissed him back.

 

—

 

The next day Lance strolled into the kitchen for breakfast with Keith trailing behind him swaddled in his coat. It really was as warm and comfortable as it looked and, as an added bonus, it smelled like Lance. For some reason, in all his daydreaming, Keith had never really thought about the jacket smelling exactly like Lance.

 

And Lance? His wrists were bare. Those elbow length sleeves hid nothing from sight and he’d assured Keith that he looked way more adorable in his coat than Lance ever did, especially with the way he kept the hood up as well.

 

He was ready to show the others. Keith had done that. Had given him back a little of his courage.

 

The next few days would see the other Paladins noticing the cuts, Shiro with his silent understanding and pat on the back, Pidge with her sudden tight hug and the demand that it never happen again, Hunk with his crying and multiple sudden and unpredictable bear hugs. Allura and Coran with their uncomfortable questions, following horror, and then their strict orders for a full team group hug.

 

And maybe it was a little stressful, coming clean about a time he’d hidden from sight.

 

But the relief and acceptance and reassurance that came with it, the reward of Keith getting to wear his boyfriend’s jacket whenever he wanted, the reward of Lance getting to see his boyfriend drowning in his jacket? Totally worth it in the end.

 

Yeah, Lance thought a few weeks later, laying in bed with Keith’s lips pressed to his scars, watching the tiny smile that crossed his face as he drifted to sleep. Worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Scars mean you lived! They aren't good, per say. I'd really prefer it if you have no scars! I'd prefer it if you don't self harm, at the very least don't self harm so dangerously! I used to dig my nails into my arms when I got anxious, not hard enough to bleed but enough to refocus. I think a lot of therapists recommend holding an ice cube. Not saying those are GOOD but they are BETTER. Less dangerous. Less damaging.
> 
> That said, scars aren't bad, either. Scars happen when you heal so if you have one it means that injury didn't kill you! You survived it! Yay! (But please try not to make more)
> 
> I really hope those of you that do have scars find the sort of people who will understand that. A little understanding can go a long way.
> 
> Please be safe! Please be kind, even to yourself! Things can get better if you let yourself be around for it! Bye bye!


End file.
